Timeless
by Abrasucks Malfoy
Summary: With her heart broken, Hermione walks around Hogwarts, only to find herself on the seventh floor. The door appears, leaving her baffled as to what she could have needed. Knowingly, she goes in to find a mirror and Tom Riddle in the reflection. After breaking the mirror, she is blasted back to 1945 and to Tom Riddle. How will she go back? Better yet, will she want to? TRHG
1. Chapter One

**Note:** I never know what to say on these things, but I did feel the need to make a note before you read on to explain a few things, I guess? The summary is shit because I can't do summaries to save my life. Ask my English teacher, she will tell you the same thing. The rating 'M' is because of future scenes - I do like writing steamy scenes and of course, when your male lead is Tom Riddle, there are going to be some (well, a whole lot,) of violent scenes as he is the Dark Lord (as well as a Sex God). He isn't called Dark for nothing.

Anyways, reviews are always welcome, but please do go easy on me as it is my first Tomione fic. And please do inform me if there are any grammatical errors that make you cringe. Another thing, I'm quite sorry if I use way too many commas - I just love them quite a lot.

x, Melissa

P.S - Don't mind my username. I actually love Abraxas Malfoy. It's just that I can't help it if there's a portion of his name can be changed to make it something funnier. Long story short, I found it funny so I'm keeping it (unless I find a funnier name.)

**Update 052513**: Er, I decided to transfer the last scene of this one to the second chapter as it did make better sense to. For the new, readers, you won't notice this but hello, I'm glad you decided on reading this.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, which includes the characters. If I did, then I wouldn't be here - I'd probably be somewhere else. I only own the plot and the original characters that appear.

* * *

Hermione Granger was a sensible girl, the most sensible one to walk the halls of Hogwarts. She was a cunning girl with courage in her blood, and had it not be known that she was a muggle-born, everyone would think she were of pureblood descent. She was also someone who did not let her emotions get the best of her. But of course, above all her sensibility, intelligence, and courage, it still didn't hide the fact that Hermione Granger was still a girl.

It also didn't hide the fact that Hermione Granger, a sensible girl, had fallen in love somewhere in between time, with Ronald Weasley.

It was a glorious night by the black lake. Yes, it was a walk from the castle, but seeing as the Gryffindors did not want to get into trouble of having to clean the common room up, they had opted to have their victory party near the lake. After all, it was a Friday night, the perfect time for a party. It was a grand celebration - their beloved Quidditch team had made it into the finals and their chances of winning were quite high. (Ninety-two percent, according to Hermione who calculated the statistics because she was bored beyond her mind during Divination.) Yes, it was one of those nights that Dark Lords and unforgivable spells were forgotten because victory was in the air, but more importantly, so was _love._

It was a night of merriment and though she was Head Girl and knew that alcoholic beverages were certainly not allowed, she allowed it only if it were drank in moderation and that she be the one to purchase it (so that she could enchant their alcohol percentage into much _much_ much less.) Hermione Granger definitely had her ways of making things go her way, but she planned tonight very differently from what had happened.

And though the drinks were enchanted not to let anyone have horrible headaches the morning after, it did supply, however, enough alcohol to give liquid courage. Hermione Granger felt very confident, wearing a skin-tight black dress, borrowed from none other than Ginny Weasley, who coincidentally, had given her all the drinks that she drank that evening. She was enjoying herself at a party which normally, she wouldn't. There was something different about tonight and she knew it. The party was at its peak and everyone seemed like they were enjoying themselves. It was between the sixth and ninth shot that she decided that she was ready to confess her feelings for one ginger-haired boy.

"Ginny," Hermione said as she tapped her friend on the shoulder to get her attention. "Your brother, where is he? And Harry?" She quickly added that part about Harry, hoping that the other wouldn't catch on to what she was about to do.

Ginny looked around the sea of people as if to pinpoint exactly where he was, but her eyes found one, but not the other. "Harry's there," she answered, turning a shade redder than before as she pointed to the boy with the messy hair and circular glasses. "But Ron did say something about being too tired to stay until the end. I reckon he left just a few minutes ago," she said as her eyes focused on Hermione again. She also remembered (which she purposely failed to mention) that Ron left with one Lavender Brown on his arm after he ended the conversation. She knew that it was neither hers nor Hermione's business to interfere with her life, and was quite content with the answer she gave to Hermione.

"Right," Hermione nodded. "Thanks, Gin. I think I'll head back too, I'm pretty tired, myself." Which was a lie, of course, but she couldn't let the ginger know that. Hermione turned around and walk towards the direction of the castle before Ginny could even volunteer to come with her.

She passed by Harry on her way back, telling the exact excuse she told Ginny, and bid him a good night. Before she could leave, however, Harry had asked her where Ginny was and if she was busy. Hermione smiled at his question and gave him the proper answers but he made no move towards her. And again, she waved bye to her friend and started walking back to the castle. And if Harry looked to Hermione's direction, he would see her bushy hair moving side to side as if Hermione was shaking her head.

She was making her way back, thinking of all the things that she could tell him without scaring him off. She even laughed to herself about what she exactly she was doing. She second guessed herself as well, because she knew who she was and she would never do this. Tonight, however, was the exception. She had too much to drink and she was feeling giddy, happy, and after a long time, relaxed. Her mind was so deep into the situation that she didn't even notice that she was infront of the portrait already (and the numerous couples that she passed by on the way back to the Gryffindor tower.)

"Password?" The fat lady asked in a grumpy way, as it was late at night and the sound of footsteps woke her up.

"_Veni, Vidi, Vici_," she said, shaking her head in silent laughter. It was her week to choose the password to the Common Rooms and she had chosen her favorite line form a muggle book about a Roman emperor who had fallen with the hands of his so-called friends. It was brutal, yes, but she didn't mind it because it was a relatively easy password and it had meant, "I came, I saw, I conquered." She thought it was quite funny that each person had to say it each time he/she entered the room.

The fat lady smiled and opened the door slightly to have her push it open. She took a deep breath to prepare herself for what she was about to do, hoping he was in the Common Room so she wouldn't have to ask anybody to retrieve him from his room. She stepped in the room, walked across the dark hallway to where the light of the common room shone, only to have her steps falter and have the blood to rush out of her face.

* * *

And on the night that she was so ready to confess her (something close to) love for Ron Weasley, with of course, the help of liquid confidence and the fact that Ron had been dropping hints all week, she stopped at where the hallway intersected with the common room to find that same boy in a quite comfortable position with another girl. Yes, Hermione caught the pair, snuggled up on the loveseat in front of the fire. (Parenthetically, it should be said that given someone was there watching her expression, that person would be able to pin point the exact moment when Hermione Granger's heart broke.) And what made it worse was that they, in fact, looked _happy_ together. The sight made her double think herself – _Did she just want to see those signs that Ron was giving her? Were his small bumps to her all a dream? Had he not brushed her hand with his while walking too many times? __If it happened to another person, then she wouldn't have minded but everything seemed to just be magnified twice as much when it happened to her._

The pain that her heart she experienced could be compared to none other – to the pain she's felt before. And it should not be forgotten that Hermione Granger went through a lot of pain in her lifetime – too much death, tragedy, and others such as those stated for a girl of her age. There, in the threshold she stood, rooted at the spot, looking at the couple that looked truly happy. The room had begun to spun and she knew she had to leave, and so for just that moment, she reverted back to sensible Hermione, and being as quiet as a mouse - not that Hogwarts had any - she retreated back to where she came from.

It was only when she could feel the night air that she could no longer hold the tears that built in her eyes. She walked away form the portrait door, happy that no one was in sight. She needed a place to cry – to hide. She needed a place to think, to compose herself. She wanted to be alone and yet at the same time, needed companionship. She needed an escape. She kept walking away until she found herself on a certain floor that she spent countless days in on her fifth year. She was mindlessly walking in the hallway, wiping her tears away when she noticed something form in her peripheral vision. She smiled a knowing smile, and thanked Hogwarts before opening the door and walking in.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, but she walked on anyway. The room was empty except for two objects in the center of it all – a mirror and a chair that sat directly opposite it. Her mood lightened at what the room had given her. It was simple and she couldn't help but think that it was exactly what she asked for. But she couldn't help but try to remember exactly what she was thinking or what she needed when the door appeared. Nothing came to mind, but she shook her head for she knew it was along the lines of escape. But hadn't she also thought of companionship? Of someone to talk to? What would the room give her then?

Her fingers grazed the back of the chair, and looked in the mirror. She only saw herself. She sighed and sat down. She closed her eyes and for a moment, one tiny moment, she could pretend that nothing had happened that night, she had not seen anything in the common room, her heart did not break, et cetera, et cetera. However, moments end and they do so harshly. Hermione began crying – not for the fact that Ron Weasley didn't reciprocate the same felings – but for the fact that she was so sick and tired of being alone.

Harry had Cho Chang and even after, he had Ginny. Ron had Parvati and even Fleur (for that brief period of time in fourth year.) She, on the other hand, had no one, not even Krum (whom she remained friends with after that fiasco in the TriWizard tournament.) She had been housing a crush on her fellow friend for quite a number of years now and it dawned on her how pathetic her feelings and behavior was.

And Hermione Granger was definitely not the type who would be even be considered to be pathetic.

She turned to the mirror. Seeing her reflection, she decided that it was time to take a good look at herself so she then opted to stand instead of sitting. She surveyed herself in the mirror. Her hair fell with waves rather than curls down her back. Her body was lean from all the running from danger that she had gotten with Harry and Ron. She allowed herself a moment to think of those thoughts and smile. She wasn't that bad, was she? She shook her head. And that was the exact point, Hermione pushed her feelings away and resolved to be a new but still sensible Hermione.

She, then, made all the decisions in her head. She would take more time and effort to fix herself. She would stop pining over Ron Weasley because she had a much better use of her time. She would go out more often but still keep the grades that she was getting. She made a mental plan of how she was going to do it. And with that, she finished her night feeling a lot stronger than she did before she entered the room.

"They won't know what hit them," she said as she turned away from the mirror.

"No, they won't," a voice said. Hermione stopped at her tracks. She drew her wand and pointed it at the darkness, ready to fire at anyone. Her senses were heightened and she was now in battle-mode.

"Who are you and how long have you been there?" Hermione demanded, turning around looking for some sort of life but found none.

"You ask me who I am yet you cannot find me," said the voice once again causing Hermione to panic. "Look at the mirror, dear," the voice said. Hermione didn't know whether to run and just forget she ever heard something or to do as the voice told her. Although one thing about Hermione is that she never really liked breaking rules and she would always follow them (except for the brief moment in her fifth year – but hey! That was a matter of life and death.)

Curiosity always did get the better of her, and so she turned around to look at the mirror. There, with her reflection, was a boy who was painstakingly handsome that he caused Hermione's breathing to falter and to throw all thoughts of Ron aside. She couldn't quite think of anyone that could compare to the boy in the mirror, but then again the devil was the most beautiful angel in Heaven and this boy was little ways close to it (but she didn't know that yet.)

Alas, Hermione didn't let (extremely) handsome boys throw her off and the fact that he was in the mirror wasn't exactly going to slide by her either. She knew he was trouble, she knew.

"You might be wondering about my current state," the boy asked, arching an eyebrow. Hermione nodded in response for no words formed into a coherent sentence in her head. "If you please," the boy said gesturing to the chair in front of the mirror.

And on his cue, she sat down. She glanced at her wristwatch – it was half past eleven in the evening. She had time, and she was one of the most brilliant witches in the world – she would easily be able to escape. After all, the room had been good to her. It _always_ was.

"It began a few days ago," he said, looking in the distance. "I was worrying about time – the past, present, and future. You know, all things concerning those. I figured, why not make something that could allow people to talk in between time? Why not create an object to converse with someone ahead of time?"

At this point, Hermione gripped her wand a lot tighter, and prepared so that she could run at any moment's notice. And she seemed to be placing his face somewhere in her thoughts – just trying to remember which particular moment she saw him.

"And then you see, there was a trust issue – as there always is. I figured _what if the person wanted to see who he, or she," _he sent Hermione a wink before resuming, "was talking to? I figured a mirror would be perfect so I can see you, and you can see me. Now, pray-tell me: who are you and what year is it there?"

Hermione didn't know whether to answer or to leave, she chose the latter. Although her good manners did get the best of her before she did so. "I'm sorry, I will not tell you who I am and what year it is – this is quite a foolish thing for you to do and it should have not been done. I'm sorry to destroy your work – you are quite brilliant and this is stellar, but," she pointed her wand at them mirror, looking the boy squarely in the eye. The boy had changed his stance. Gone was the courteous boy that was in the mirror. The phrase 'if looks could kill' comes into mind although his was definitely one to _kill_, rather than meaning that he was, not that he wasn't, handsome. Yes, the boy in the mirror looked as if he wanted to kill Hermione Granger.

"Expulso,"

The shards of the mirror went everywhere, and she turned around in an effort to protect herself from it. A blinding light came from the frame of the now-broken mirror.

The room started to shake, and she could hear things falling – but from where? There was nothing in the room when she entered. She looked around to see things seeming to appear in the background. But she didn't have time dwell on that given the current state. Hermione turned away from the mirror, and began running/wobbling back to the door – she needed to leave. She was only in her sixth year – she did not want to die especially when she hasn't finished her schooling. Even more, she was supposed to help her two best mates fight the evil that was hunting them. But before she could even reach the door, a blast sent her flying, and the feeling of being thrown was the last thing she felt before she blacked out.

* * *

**Note: **So who was the boy in the mirror? LOL LIKE YOU DON'T ALREADY KNOW. I don't even know if I'll want to continue this fic, but I probably am. I just need to figure out who to /feel/, cry, and write at the same time. Tomione kills me, and I'm pretty sure it kills you too. x


	2. Chapter Two

**Note:** Hello, hi. I'm back after so soon! (Well, soon in my terms.) The writings gods struck me with the urge to write so tada! I do hope you enjoy this chapter and review. And the chapters are just going to get longer from here, by the way. :-)

Oh, and if you saw didn't see the **update** in my first chapter... I've transferred the last scene to here since it made better sense to. I did indicate, however, where I started the transfer and where it ended. I'm so sorry for the confusion.

x, Melissa

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, which includes the characters. If I did, then I wouldn't be here - I'd probably be somewhere else. I only own the plot and the original characters that appear.

* * *

**THE ROOM OF REQUIREMENT; TOM'S POV**

Tom Riddle was not the type of person to fail and be crossed by anyone, most especially a girl that had no right to destroy his creation. Just the thought of the girl had made him shake with anger. The blast from her stupid attempt of breaking the mirror had caused him to fly backwards and to hit a wall. He now had a bump at the back of his head and a raging headache. He also had shards of the mirror in his hair, but that didn't matter to him at all. His looks only mattered to keep up his appearance - how else would he fool the entire school body? What mattered, however, was how he was going to get his revenge on the girl and how he could get back at her though she was from the future. _How would he even find her?_ That was the question running through his mind when he was dusting himself in his room.

He had gotten himself out of the room before any one could come to investigate. Of course, he had to disillusion himself in order to get out but that wasn't trouble at all since he'd learned that spell ever since his second year in Hogwarts. He had cast the spell and left in such a hurry that he hadn't even noticed the body that was located near the door of the room. He knew that there were eyes and ears in every hall of Hogwarts therefore deduced that someone would come to investigate – he was sure that even the Room of Requirement couldn't conceal a noise like that, especially when he hadn't thought of needing a sound-proof room. And correct he was, when heard the voice of Albus Dumbledore approaching, but Tom was too fast for him and was already at the other end of the doorway. If that old professor saw him there, Tom was sure that he would expel him without even batting an eyelash.

The night's events had prompted Tom to pace around his room, replaying it in his mind, thinking what the hell had happened. He shoved his glorious hair from his face and groaned – the sound muffled by his hands. He, then, needed a cigarette. It was a terrible muggle habbit that he caught while he was in the orphanage, but it was addicting and relieving. He opened the windows because the ventilation of his room connected with that of the Head Girl's room and he wasn't going to risk being accused of smoking. Merlin forbid, he would ruin his reputation with Headmaster Dippet. He scoffed at the thought of that old man. Of course, he wasn't the only Slytherin that did it. Actually, nearly every Slytherin had the habit of smoking. Some had it worse, but Tom had always had control of his cravings as he did with everything else in his life.

He craved control – lived it – which is part of the reason why what happened threw him off so much. He was used to being able to control anyone with the sound of his voice, but the girl just didn't budge. She didn't seem convinced at all when usually girls didn't even care what he was saying but just did whatever he asked them to do. He shoved his hair back once more, and entertained the idea of just cutting it shorter than he usually did but decided against it. He proceeded to move towards his table, to get the pack that he kept in his drawer. He took a stick out, grabbed the lighter, then walked to where the window was.

He put the cigarette in his mouth, lightning it as he inhaled and blew the smoke out. He was too tense, more worked up than he usually was. He willed his body to relax, but he just couldn't. He was absolutely frustrated at himself, because every single time he tried to remember what her face had looked like – he couldn't. Her image was blurred in his mind but he could've sworn that he saw her clearly through the mirror. And he was never wrong.

The spell had backfired, clearly. He would have had to experiment some more, research some more. He needed it back. He needed to know the secrets of the future. More importantly, he needed to know if Lord Voldemort had existed in the future, because there was a part of him that was absolutely terrified that it wouldn't.

He looked out in the darkness of the night and thought of all the things he could do to achieve that – obviously, he would have to fix the charm – so that if anyone tried to destroy the object, they wouldn't be able to. He, then, decided to ignore his defeat for the rest of the week and since no one knew about what had happened to him on that night, no one would have to know about his defeat. He smiled at the idea, and then proceeded to extinguish the ember of the cigarette and leave it out the window where all the other remnants of lit cigarettes lay.

And if he had some pent-up frustration left that morning, he would call a meeting within the week so that he, like the cigarette, could extinguish the fire of his frustration. He started stripping for a shower, throwing his clothes to the side where all the dirty clothes were, grabbed a towel, and headed for the bathroom. And if anyone were there to see him half-naked in the moonlight, they would stop dead in their tracks and think that they've seen a Greek god, but of course, no one was there watching to see his beauty. Although, it should be noted that the way the moon reflected on his skin was definitely something a sight that would make any woman sigh in desire.

After a very relaxing shower, noting that it was a quarter past two in the morning, he figured it was time to sleep since there was nothing else on his agenda for the night, because his plan was ruined. Tom Riddle had fallen asleep, thinking of the only girl who had matched him.

* * *

**THE INFIRMARY; HERMIONE'S POV**

**(FROM THE FIRST CHAPTER)**

Hermione woke up to white sheets on a bed that was definitely not hers. Her body ached, her head even more, when she tried to sit up. She took note of her surroundings before concluding that she was in the infirmary, but how did she get here? She didn't know… and that's when she started panicking. The last thing she remembered was shielding herself away from the mirror when she destroyed it. Who found her? Who brought here? There were so many questions running through her mind that it made her head throb harder. She closed her eyes and reclined herself back on the bed – she would answer those questions later… preferably after a few head-ache pills or a nap.

A throat was cleared and her eyes opened to a _much_ younger looking Dumbledore, but since her head was throbbing, she didn't rely on her vision too much.

"Professor Dubmbledore," she said as she sat up, wincing at the pain form her arms as she steadied herself. "What happened? Who brought me here?"

"Here," Dumbledore said, handing her a vial to drink. She took it cautiously before smelling it and drinking it. At an instant, the pain from her head disappeared and the ache in her body, too, was disappearing. "I was hoping you could tell me. You seem to have me at an advantage," the professor said, sitting down beside her bed and facing her. "You know my name, and yet I do not know yours. You appear in Hogwarts but I have not seen you in the halls. Now, tell me… before I answer any of your questions, who are you?"

Hermione's mind raced. What happened? Why did he not remember her? She didn't understand anything that was happening. He couldn't be joking around – he was, after all, the greatest wizard of all time and certainly did not have time for games. Her thoughts went back to the night before and who she was talking to. He talked of time and magic and – her eyes widened and she began to shake as the realization dawned upon her. She took a deep shaky breath and met the professor's eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to stop herself from shaking but failing to do so as it was to much for her to think of at the moment. "I just need to ask something before I try to explain what happened." The professor nodded with a smile. "What's the exact date today?"

"November the fourth of 1944," the professor answered. And with that, Hermione gasped and began to breathe more deeply.

Her mind was racing. Her pulse was speeding. She had managed to travel fifty years back in time and all because of that stupid boy and the mirror. Her emotions were all over the place.

"Well, I don't have all day, Miss..?", the professor prompted.

"Granger, sir," Hermione answered, steadying her voice. "I'm Hermione Granger," she paused. "And I'm from the future."

**(WHERE THE PORTION THAT I TRANSFERRED FROM THE FIRST CHAPTER ENDS)**

An awkward silence filled the room as Hermione mentally hit herself for making it sound dramatic when she should've just explained it thoroughly rather than say that and then have this awkward situation. He must think she was mad – she would have thought so too if the situations were reversed, but they weren't and he wasn't in the future right now, was he? This time, she permitted her own body to slap her forehead at how stupid she sounded even just thinking.

Dumbeldore chuckled at the sight, and look entertained. "Don't hurt yourself for something that isn't your fault, Miss Granger," he said, smiling at her. At this point, Dumbledore pulled the curtains closed, giving them the privacy to talk. "Now, tell me what happened exactly."

Hermione couldn't believe it! Her old professor actually believed her. She, then, started to tell him everything, but left the specifics out as to not destroy the timeline. It was, of course, the sensible thing to do. Even Dumbledore told her to keep her stories as vague as possible. When she got to what happened the night before, she left no details out or at least tried to. Every time she attempted to describe the boy that had played with time and magic, she couldn't seem to remember. The reflection in the mirror was hazy every time she had thought of it. She even allowed Professor Dumbledore to look into her thoughts, carefully locking everything else but.

Hermione had taught herself to lock her thoughts away in case she got captured and was subject to Legilimency. It was the practical thing to do – she had asked Professor Moody's help and he thought it was a brilliant idea and even tried to see if Ron could try it too, but that didn't happen.

Dumbledore did look into her thoughts, but saw the same things she remembered. The face in the mirror had been hazy when he followed her in her thoughts. He had his suspicions but thought that it was best to keep them to himself. After all, the girl had been through too many things in a matter of hours. He saw it was best to keep her in the dark about who the boy could be.

And in exchange of allowing him to look into her thoughts for the events that transpired the night before, he then started to tell him of how she was brought into the infirmary. She had learned that it was Dumbledore, himself, that found her in the room. He had come to investigate what the noise was as he was in the sixth floor at the time it happened. He found a door, slightly opened to reveal her body and no sign of anyone else in the room. He had assumed she was a student but upon further inspection, he decided against it because he would've remembered hair like hers – after which he chuckled and Hermione flushed. The mood had lightened between them and Hermione felt comfortable talking to the professor as he was exactly the same – brilliant and was good company.

And then it hit her.

Tears threatened to fall as she saw the familiarity of his eyes. She wanted to go home – she wanted to go back to the future. She didn't want to stay here. Her thoughts lingered to Ginny, Harry, and Ron – _Ron. _Would she ever see them again? How does one get back to the future? Without knowing, she started shaking with the amount of fear that had fallen upon her.

Dumbledore walked over to the bed and wrapped her blanket around her. "There, there," he said, understanding her fear. "We'll get you back."

"T-thank you, professor," Hermione said as sincerely as she possibly could. She was quite thankful of him – he was a familiar face in this unfamiliar time. And he was helping her – that was what mattered the most.

She, then, realized and decided that it was not the time nor place to think of Ron and Harry. If this was 1944, then that meant that Tom Riddle – the Tom Riddle was here in Hogwarts, in the same building as her. An idea started brewing inside her head, but before she could start thining of it part by part, Dumbledore interrupted her thinking with some sort of dismissal.

"Yes, Ms. Granger," he said, nodding. "Seeing as you will be here for an unprecedented amount of time, do you think you'll be able to study and interact with the people here or would you rather be off campus? There are, of course, threats with Grindelwald," Hermione shivered at the sound of his name and Dumbledore saw the recognition of the name on Hermione. "I fear that you do not have time to decide, so I do need your decision now."

Hermione nodded, considering her option.s How different would it be really? It was just half a century back, and according to _Hogwarts, A History_ (1994 Edition), nothing drastic had changed in the curriculum of Hogwarts in the past century. She then smiled at the fact that she was more than capable of handling classes because there was no one to copy off her homework. But that moment was gone, pain jabbed through her as she remembered thoughts of the future.

She then took a steadying breath and looked up and smiled and Dumbledore. "When do I start?"

Dumbledore looked impressed at her eagerness, and deduced that she was a brilliant girl, which of course, she was. He thought of all the things that he had to do to get her into the school year. "I do believe that you can start tomorrow, of course, you'll have to pretend like you've never been here…"

He then started discussing with her what she had to do. They had decided to keep her name, and her house in Hogwarts. They had also decided that Hermione would be his niece that had studied in Beauxbatons but her parents decided that she would be excel more in Hogwarts, after hearing about how well the school was ranking in the top wizarding schools. He sent a letter to Headmaster Dippet, saying that they had to accept a new student in the middle of the year. It was rarely done, but in this case, there was no other option for either of them.

After a few minutes, Headmaster Dippet appeared in the Infirmary to inspect Hermione, believing the lie that Dumbledore told him of her being sick during travel. He interviewed Hermione asking her the normal questions and even quizzing her on a few academic topics, which she answered perfectly. The contentment on the headmaster's face was quite seen. He then shook her hand and welcomed her to Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry which Hermione gladly took.

She was too be introduced in front of the entire student body during dinner – which she was terrified off but at least, it would only happen once in her lifetime. It would also give her the chance to scan the crowd to look for the face of the boy that had more-or-less brought her here – maybe the familiarity would be enough for her to spot him. But she would have to wait a few hours to find out. With a wave and a welcome, Headmaster Dippet followed by Professor Dumbledore had left her to fix her accommodations such as a room and materials that she would use for school – including a robe because she had been found wearing a dress that was beyond their time.

Hermione thanked them both profusely, and had went back to resting as she needed to relax before the presentation tonight.

* * *

**DINNER TIME, GREAT HALL; HERMIONE'S POV**

Hermione was ready to be presented to the student body, or was she? She did look confident, though if someone were to shake her hand, then they would find the evidence of her hesitation. She was seated beside the teacher's table and was to be introduced as soon as the student body settled down. A few of the students had noticed her but hadn't really been paying close attention.

Hermione surveyed the crowd with disinterest – none of them looked familiar. She, then, noticed that a group of boys had just entered the hall. A tall, pale, ivory-haired boy with a face of a dark angel seemed to be leading the crew as he was walking much more confidently and slightly in front of the other boys. She also noticed how he raised his head higher than the rest. Her eyes went to the boys behind him and couldn't stop herself from smiling. She saw the resemblance of each boy to one of her classmates in present time and was smirking before she could even stop herself when her eyes landed on a platinum blonde hair. She pushed those thoughts away as a heavy feeling was making its way to her heart and returned her focus to the boy in the front.

Their eyes met. She felt a flush creep up to her face and her breathing had quickened. Who was he and why was he the leader of the pack? She tore away from his gaze and became more interested picking at an imaginary piece of lint that was on her skirt. She would soon find out that the boy was, in fact, the boy who grew up to change and make her life something of resemblance to hell.

Somewhere in herself, she found the courage to look up and see that the group of boys had already sat down and were now talking animatedly, and were constantly looking to the head of their group for approval? She couldn't tell. She also noticed at how the girls near the vicinity of the boy were whispering into each others' ears and giggling. She stopped herself from rolling her eyes.

_How long until –_ the clinking of a spoon to a glass interrupted her thoughts. She smiled and prayed to Merlin that she wouldn't embarrass herself over the next few minutes.

"Students, may I have your attention please?" Headmaster Dippet had stopped hitting the glass with a spoon and was now standing at the podium, waiting for the kids to settle down. Dumbledore stood a few feet away from him. "Albus, if you please." He said, stepping down form the podium only to have Professor Dumbledore replace him there.

The chatter had died slowly, and every one was turning away from who they were talking to, to face the direction of the man in the podium. Hermione risked a glance at the dark angel, and saw that his eyes were on Dippet and looked like he was quite entertained. A movement at the side of her vision caused her to look in the direction, and saw that Dumbledore was motioning her over. She stood up from her chair, breathing deeper than usual. She walked over to where Dumbledore was standing, her head high and a smirk on her face. If she was going to face the crowd, then she would fool them with her mask and that's exactly what she did.

"A new student – a transferee from Beauxbatons has come to Hogwarts for her sixth year. This," he said, motioning to where she was standing. There were murmurs through the crowd and she prayed that she wouldn't trip or fall over on her way there. She suddenly felt very conscious and had to stop herself from running away. If there was one thing she couldn't do, it was public speaking. She mentally begged whoever Deity was there that she wouldn't have to say anything. "Is Hermione Granger. Earlier today, she was sorted into the Gryffindor House and will be starting with her schooling tomorrow. A warm welcome, Miss Granger."

Friendly applause greeted her as she smiled and made her way to the table where the Gryffindors sat. Hopefully, she would make friends as easily as she did the first time, but that didn't bother he as much since she knew that she could always turn to the library if she were to be alone. She was about to sit at the end of the table when she saw someone motioning her over. She decided to accept the invitation with a smile and plopped herself on the seat beside the girl.

"Hi, I'm Lux Brown, sixth year as well," she said, raising her hand for a shake which Hermione returned. "This is Minerva McGonagall – seventh year and Head Girl, Lizzie Finnegan – beater for the Quidditch team, Harold Potter – seeker for the team, and," she said as she pointed to whichever face belonged to the name. She paused, looking for someone who she couldn't find. "Where the bloody hell is Tim?" The others shrugged, but she continued. "Anyway, the last one would be Tim Weasley. Harold and Tim are in sixth years with us, while Lizzie is on her seventh year. Oh, and er, welcome to Gryffindor!"

Hermione felt a pang of pain on her chest as she heard the familiar last names, but quickly hid any discomfort from her face. She was grateful that she had this tie to the future. And she was suddenly filled with excitement to know more about their family tree. She thought of this as research for the present time. "Thanks," she said, smiling. "Right, so I guess it's my turn now? Yes, okay. Hermione Granger, and… new girl?"

The group laughed at her introduction and earned her a pat on the shoulder by Lux. She thanked the heavens that she was let in by the group which was closer to home than she could ever be.

"Oi! What did I miss?" A voice said. Hermione stiffened and felt her body tense. That voice sounded so familiar to her, that she was scared to look where the owner of the voice sat down.

"Tim, where did you come from?" Minerva asked, before holding up a hand to silence him. "Never mind. You missed the big announcement! We have a new student!"

"Yea? I hope it's a girl – a pretty one at that! But I swear to Merlin that if she ends up in Slytherin, I will kill myself," Ron said, looking at the Slytherin table for a new face but smiled when he saw that he could recognize everybody.

"How does one be so dense?" Harold asked to no one in particular before smacking Tim in the head. "You, idiot! She's right there," he said, pointing to where Hermione sat and prompting her to look up and finally meet the eyes of Tim Weasley – who looked exactly like Ron.

She fought the urge to cry – she really did. Tim turned red with embarrassment and quickly recovered. "Well, what do you know? My prayers were answered!" He said, quite happily. "Septimus Weasley, but my friends call me Tim. Pleasure to be of your acquaintance." He flashed her a big smile which she couldn't help but return.

"Hermione Granger," she said in reply to him.

The group went into discussion and asked Hermione every possible question that they could. They found out that her middle name was Jean and that she was muggle-born. A lot of rdetails were lies because she couldn't possibly tell them the truth about everything. They also noticed that her teeth were arguably the most perfect ones under the roofs of the school. Hermione also noticed that they were very much like their granddaughters and grandsons.

"So what classes are you taking?" Lizzie asked, after she swallowed a bite of her bread.

She recalled the schedule that was given to her by Dumbledore some time in the afternoon. She spent the next hour memorizing everything and she was quite happy to see that she was taking more classes in this time. She figured that since there was no danger (none that she knew of, anyway) it was only practical that she took more classes. Therefore, she politely demanded to Professor Dumbledore that she take more classes and he obliged her, knowing fully well that she could handle it.

Hermione pretended to think before answering. "All the core subjects, Ancient Runes, Alchemy, Magical Theory, and Divination," she rolled her eyes at the last one, before returning her focus on her new friends that were now staring at her like she was some sort of super woman.

"Are you mental?" Lux asked, definitely concerned for her well-being.

"On your first year, really?" Lizzie asked, recalling all the subjects that she had taken in her sixth year and shaking her head at the thought.

"Are you sure you're in the right house?" Harold asked in such a way that she would think it was a joke but the way he looked at her made her think otherwise.

"That's four more than mine!" Tim exclaimed, hiding his face in his hands. "Bloody hell, you're my kind of woman."

Hermione felt a blush creep on her cheeks, and turned to face Minerva who was the only one who hadn't said anything and she was quite thankful for that.

"I suppose you're expecting me to say something, and I will," Minerva said, giving her a heartwarming smile. Hermione again felt her eyes blur with unshed tears. This was her transfiguration teacher! "I do believe that you're taking the same classes as most of the seventh years who put off most of their units until the last year. If I'm correct, I should be seeing you quite often."

"Then at least, I'll have a friendly face there," Hermione said, returning her smile.

"Doesn't Riddle have the same classes as you Min?" Harold asked, not noticing how Hermione stiffened and her eyes widened, but instead noticed Min nodded her head.

How could she forget! How could she be so stupid to forget that Tom Riddle was in the same time as her. She made a mental note to slap herself in the face when she got to her room. She was sure to do it, because she deserved it. She also made a mental note to make a plan on how to subdue Tom Riddle... And she definitely had a strong feeling as to who she was but prayed to Merlin that her guess wasn't correct which of course, it was.

"W-which one is he?" She asked, her voice shaky form the shock. Min looked over to the table opposite theirs and pointed.

Hermione knew who she was pointing to, but turned around nonetheless only to catch the dark gaze of Tom Riddle.

* * *

**Note: **Hello, I'm sorry for the transfer of the first chapter- it was definitely my mistake. Ahhh! This is just the beginning of a story and Tomione scenes will come later, of course. Otherwise, why would I even put this in the Tomione category? Anyway, reviews make me happy and spur me on. :-)

I did my research on Tom's "gang", the curriculum, and the grandparents of the lost. Septimus Weasley was too weird of a name so I changed it to Tim. And then the others, I made up because I couldn't find anything. And of course, Hermione would be overloading. Of course.


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